


Sudden Doubt

by DSL-Devin (devinsxdesigns)



Category: NCIS
Genre: Abby hates safehouses, Angst, Gen, Gibbs' Basement Chats, Gibbs' Rules, Hurt/Comfort, Nonverbal Communication, Overprotective Gibbs, Papa Bear Jethro Gibbs, Protective Jethro Gibbs, Season 7 Spoilers, Season 8 Spoilers, Team as Family, Worried Abby, but thats not new, everyone on the team is wrapped around Abby's little finger, nobody threatens Abby on Gibbs' watch, not even Abby herself, stuck in an elevator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:00:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 19,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23570476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devinsxdesigns/pseuds/DSL-Devin
Summary: When Abby gets assigned a cold case that reveals Gibbs as a murderer, they both have some tough things to face as far as their relationship goes.
Kudos: 7





	1. Disturbing Evidence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some dialogue in each chapter is drawn directly from the show, and we expand on the character's feelings. Other scenes fill in the blanks we didn't get to see in the show.

She was, as usual, surprised when he entered the lab. The only change was the tenor of her surprise – her voice, when she said his name, was stressed instead of pleased. Gibbs, in turn, said nothing; he merely watched her watch him, noting the suspicion he'd never experienced from Abby before. He knew that he'd confused Ducky as well, down in autopsy, but that was different. They watched each other, carefully, until McGee interrupted with new findings on the current case. The man started to update him on the case, but Gibbs was still watching Abby watch him, until she commented on the half-hidden evidence jar in his hand.

"Is that another tissue sample?" she asked him, sounding almost hopeful. She knew that he knew – but Gibbs wasn't sure, yet, what she knew. Slowly he reached up and placed the bullet and its container on her microscope.

"No."

She jumped, jerking her gaze away from his penetrating blue eyes and started rapidly continuing where McGee had left off. The boy was confused at their short exchange, but didn't dwell on it very long. He was focused on the case at hand, as he should be. Gibbs listened to McGee talk, looking over because Abby was staring at him, again, eyes accusing. The murders were clearly the work of a drug cartel; it was the connection between the victims, the murder method. It made sense. He walked over to the screen as they spoke, and then stepped back beside Abby.

McGee was caught up in the evidence now, and didn't notice the silent exchange that passed between Abby and his boss at the mention of drug cartels. They were close and it was possible for entire conversations to be had under the very eyes of their team members but this wasn't the case this time. Abby was simply confused and upset, and Gibbs wanted to know what she had. But they couldn't discuss it with McGee there.

Without another word he accepted their results and went back upstairs to check on Tony and Ziva's progress.


	2. Basement Worries

Gibbs didn't see Abby again before he left NCIS. He was not surprised when he heard her come into his house later that night, and he listened to her slow progress across the front hall, heard her look in the living room and the kitchen before slowly descending the stairs. He didn't look up until she stopped halfway down, standing uncertainly at the railing. It hurt that she didn't just come down, like she normally would, but he understood.

"Hey Gibbs."

"Hey Abs." He looked up then, but then quickly back down at the chair he was fixing.

"Can I come in?"

She was still standing there, though she knew she had a full, open invitation to come in whenever she wanted. He was starting to get the feeling she knew more than he thought she did. It was clearly more than just having his family's killer's death turn up. "Yeah…you're already in."

"Right." She walked the rest of the way into the basement, and he could see her fiddling nervously with one of her many bracelets as she crossed to him. He flashed her a quick smile. "Okay," she said, and despite the gravity of the situation he could feel himself smiling at the familiar gestures. "It-it was nice talking to you," she continued suddenly and turned to rush back across the floor, her shoes clicking on the concrete.

"Abs." he stopped her, putting down his tools and looking up. He didn't want to talk about it, but he couldn't leave it at that. Whatever she knew, it was enough to bring her over in the middle of the night. And he needed to know how much she knew. "Why are you here?"

Abby had turned to look at him and now she was frowning, glaring at him. "You know why I'm here." Gibbs looked away from that glare, looking everywhere but at her. He heard the thunk as she dropped her purse on one of the work benches and walked back over towards him. He needed to keep his hands busy, so he picked up a clamp to use to hold the chair together while the glue dried. "I matched the bullet in Pedro Hernandez's head to your sniper rifle. You killed him. In cold blood. I mean I know what he did, Gibbs. He," she gestured again, looking lost. "He killed your wife, and your daughter, but Gibbs…"

It was the lost look that he couldn't stand. He'd let her down, and the kicker was he'd done it long before he even met her. "I know," was all he said, carefully setting the clamp into place and tightening it.

"Gibbs doesn't do things like that. Or-or does he? Now I don't know! I don't know anything. The only thing that I do know is that I didn't find this out by accident." She was still looking at him, and he nodded, swallowing hard against the emotions that welled up. She was doubting him now, but the fact that she'd realized that case should never have shown up in her symposium as a tribute to everything she'd learned as part of his team. How far she'd come. He was proud of her.

"Rule forty."

"If it seems like someone is out to get you, they are." Tony and McGee and Ziva, even Ducky and Jen and Kate, could quote his 'rules' back at him and each other. But Abby was the only one who remembered them all, and could keep the numbers straight. She'd always been so blindly trusting of him, and way back when, so admiring. He rubbed his face, his headache since he'd found out Pedro Hernandez's body was in their autopsy growing worse. She paced for a moment. "It's just…you have no idea how much I wish it was yesterday. Maybe if I could just close my eyes and open 'em again it will be."

Gibbs watched her cross her fingers, close her eyes, and bite her lip. More familiar Abby habits – and again he could help but let a small, fond smile cross his face as she opened her eyes back up and looked at him. He looked away again as she gave a frustrated huff at finding herself still in his basement and paced away again.

"Do you realize the situation I'm in now?"

"Yeah, I know."

"You understand the…choice I have to make now?" her voice had risen an octave into panicky as she threw her hands up into the air.

"I know."

"Stop saying 'I know'," she yelled at him.

"What do you want me to say?" he gave her his full attention, looking up from his work, a slightly annoyed look on his face now. It was too late to go back and make this go away, and anyway, there was no way he'd have known someone would put this case on front of his girl, and no way he'd change what he'd done to cause the case to exist. She didn't deserve the annoyed look, but there was nothing else for it.

"Tell me that I'm wrong. Tell me that I made a mistake…with the ballistics, or…" she threw up her hands again.

"No." he shook his head. "No, I can't say that." He'd never lied to her before, and he wasn't going to start now.

"Then…tell me how much I've been like a daughter to you? And how much you love me?" she nodded desperately, tears in her eyes.

He sighed. "Will that help?"

"No," she wrung her hands, then shook them out. "But what I really need to know, Gibbs, is if you're going to love me…no matter what."

Gibbs tilted his head, gave it an almost minuscule shake, and just looked at her, his eyes sad. Couldn't she see she was breaking his heart? She waited, biting her lip again, and the silence stretched until he spoke. "I didn't think I needed to tell you that, Abs." He reached out and took her hand, pulling her close so that he could wrap his arms around her. Abby leaned into him, but said nothing. She didn't believe him yet. He sank to the floor against his tool cabinets, drawing her with him until they were sitting on the floor, her head against his chest and his arms still wrapped around her. "I told you, I've got your back. Always have, always will," he quoted himself from before she went to Mexico, hoping repetition might make it stick. "I will love you, Abby, no matter what happens. I promise."

"But what if you go to jail?" she cried, "Or…"

"No matter what," he repeated, squeezing her a little and kissing her head. "No matter what." He held her in silence as the tears stopped, him lost in his thoughts and her in hers, for what felt like forever. When he realized she'd fallen asleep on him, he brushed his hands through one of her pigtails, gently waking her up. She looked up at him, still looking lost. "No matter what, Abs. Now let me take you home. You're exhausted."

He took her home, and waited until she was asleep again before he left her apartment.


	3. Not Talking About It

The next day he ascertained that she'd come in to work and then thought only about the current case until he needed to visit her lab to get an update. He had enough to worry about, with the murder of Special Agent Macey on the weekend of Arlington's graduation. But the emotions of last night came crashing back down when he reached her floor, and he forced himself to put on a normal air as he strode briskly from the elevator into the lab.

"Hey Abs. What've you got?"

"Questions. For you."

"Case first," he told her, choosing to ignore the annoyed way she pushed off from her desk to come over to where he was inspecting evidence for the Macey case.

"Okay," she forced herself to case discussion as well, though he could still tell that she wasn't happy with being put off. She was watching him again, and stepped directly into his path when he went to leave, arms folded across her chest. "Gibbs, we need to talk. About…stuff…and things."

"Not now, Abs." he gave a slight shake of his head. First, he needed to find out who'd murdered Macey, and why.

"Okay." She stood disgruntled as he pushed past her and walked out. "Ok."


	4. Lockdown

"Gibbs, come look at this." Abby greeted him as he rushed into her lab.

"Talk to me, Abs."

"The disposable cell phone that was used to call Agent Macey? Finally tracked it to a convenience store in Norfolk. I'm processing the security camera footage to find out who bought it. It's…it's gonna take a while and if you know you just wanna…relax…"

"Relax? Abs…" he started to walk out with a shake of his head. He knew he'd left her worried and upset and probably a bit hurt when he'd been in earlier and she'd asked him to talk about Mexico and he'd snapped at her ("What did you say?" "I said, we...need to talk about Mexico?") but she'd also acknowledged how important this case was (thought she didn't truly know exactly how important) and he didn't have time to talk about it right now. He was almost to the door when it slid shut, and he could hear the other door doing the same. He whirled around to face her, a scowl on his face and his arms spread in silent question.

"This is a lockdown," she told him, almost smugly.

"A what?"

"We're going to talk, Gibbs."

"Like hell," he growled, furious. "Not now." He had stalked over and grabbed for the remote she held, but she kept it from him.

"Yes! Now!" she yelled back at him, walking away and then turning to him with a glare. "Since when did I become the kid in class the teacher won't call on? The evidence in my report says that you killed Pedro Hernandez." She stared at him and he stared back. "And you're not even willing to talk about it!"

"I didn't think I needed to," he told her quietly.

"I owe you…everything. You're Gibbs. No one needs to know the truth about the Hernandez investigation." She was staring at him in a sad, almost panicky way again. "I am willing to do…anything. For you. I just need you to tell me what to do."

Gibbs felt like his heart was tearing in half again. It was a feeling he resented, but he wouldn't take it out on Abby. She didn't want to turn him in; just like when her evidence had implicated Tony in a murder, and Ziva…she hadn't believed her own science, because she knew in her heart they were innocent. The difference was, Gibbs had done exactly what the evidence said. He had killed Pedro Hernandez. And she wasn't going to ruin her career for him. "No you don't, Abs. I've only ever needed you to do one thing." He waited while she thought about it, and nodded when she gave him the right answer.

"My job," she said. "But it's different, this time. I mean it has to be, right?

"No, it doesn't." he shook his head. They were staring at each other, his gaze firm while hers was pleading, when the computer beeped, summoning Abby to look at its findings. Gibbs followed, recognizing the picture of the man her machines had enhanced. "Former Army Ranger Jason Dane. Hell. He's one of Bell's men."

"Well, I bet his knife matches Agent Macey's wound."

"You know too much, Abby," he sighed, and felt her sigh and nod beside him.

"Gibbs." She turned to look at him, very quiet again in contrast to her anger of a few minutes ago. "What do I do?"

He knew she just wanted his reassurance, just like the night before in his basement. It was killing her to turn him in, and he understood. "You send in the report, to the task force. All of it." He told her, holding her gaze and thinking of the night before. He'd already given her the reassurances she needed.

"I know," she sighed again, looking away. "You shouldn't have to tell me, right?"

Gibbs knew she wasn't referring to sending in the report. And he didn't blame her for wanting to be sure he was going to love her just the same anyway, he just wished he hadn't done something to earn that doubt. He leaned in and kissed her forehead, sealing his promise. He would love her no matter what. As he rocked back on his heels, he handed her the remote. She'd let him out if she'd gotten all the comfort she needed. With another heavy sigh, she pushed the button and released the door. He gave her a small smile and turned to go back upstairs.


	5. Elevator Moment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go with the first part of episode 7x24. Enjoy. Remember I'm pulling some dialogue directly from episodes.

She didn't have any time to waste. Abby had come up the stairs, followed Ziva and Tony as they talked to Vance, or at least as much as she could without going into his office. On a normal day, there was no way she'd have been able to do that with Ziva but today was not a normal day – they were all under a lot of stress, even if no one was talking about it. Abby had dressed rather conservatively today, as well, which helped. As Ziva and Tony went into the elevator she dashed in behind them, grabbing their shoulders as they turned around in surprise.

"You guys are going to Mexico," she told them, even though they already knew. "What's the plan?"

"What do you know, Abs?" Tony asked, confused, while Ziva simply stared at her. She reached behind her and flicked the elevator off, before putting her hands back on their shoulders. Hopefully no one – especially Vance – would notice it was stopped.

"Gibbs mentioned rule forty."

"If you think someone's out to get you, they are?" DiNozzo looked shocked, while Ziva took his previously confused expression, looking from Abby to Tony in the dim light.

"I have never heard a rule in the forties," was her reply.

"They don't come up very often." Tony said grimly"

"And that's a good thing," Abby confirmed.

"How many times have I told Gibbs to write these things down?" Ziva complained bitterly.

"You don't have to write 'em down, they're for daily use – most of the rules. But the forties…" Tony trailed off.

"The forties are for emergency use only." Abby picked up.

"If the forties are in place something unspeakably bad is going down." Tony finished, staring grimly at Abbie. How was it that she always, always knew these things before anyone else?

"We have to get him back." Ziva voiced the opinion, but it was everyone's opinion. Abby nodded, and pulled her hands from their shoulders, flicking the elevator back into motion. It rolled to a stop at the next floor, where another agent got on, preventing any further communication. She pressed the button for her lab, shooting Tony a panicked glance. Before she stepped off, he squeezed her hand, reassuring her that they'd take care of it. With a tiny nod, she stepped backwards out of the elevator and watched it close on them as they left.


	6. Derryn

"Gibbs!" she greeted him as he strode into her lab, which was kind of dark, probably because of the late hour. "Have you met Derryn?" she gestured towards the man Gibbs had ignored upon entrance, so he obligingly turned to look. "Derryn's an armed security guard. He's recently been reassigned to guard me. Although I have no idea why that might be."

Gibbs looked from Abby to the man and back again. The guard hadn't blinked an eye when he arrived, as Abby had probably noticed. That would be because he'd assigned him there. Which she also knew. She was fishing for answers which he wasn't going to give her. He gave the man a nod and the guard exited, leaving the two of them alone.

"Except when I look at you, I know exactly why," she said as he turned back towards her, noting that she was worrying her hands again.

"Abs, I'm sorry-" he started but she cut him off.

"Gibbs! Why would you say that to me?" she held up one finger to stop him. "It terrifies me when you break your own rules!" she paused, and he noticed that she was uncharacteristically wearing a yellow shirt under her black jacket, though she'd of course added the spiked jewelry and accessories to camoflague it. A spot of sunshine in an otherwise bleak atmosphere. The rest of the team was finally picking up on something being wrong, but Abby was still in turmoil, and much worse off because she'd known for so much longer…giving her time to worry. "You see what I'm…doing there? Wagging my finger…to stop you from talking? Something Mike Franks is probably never going to be able to do again."

"It is Mike's finger, right?" he needed to confirm, even while he steadily held her gaze. Just like she was able to tell him some of his mentor's more common habits, he knew she'd have already figured out why there was an armed guard in her lab, really wherever she was, and why that wasn't going to change.

"Right index, to be specific. Also known as the forefinger, the digitus secondus, pointer finger, and the trigger finger." She mimed pulling a trigger with her own finger, something he was determined she keep all of. "That's something else Mike Franks will probably never be able to do again," she finished with a sigh.

"He was alive when it was severed, though?" Gibbs asked, the emphasis not lost on Abby. There was not going to even be a discussion about the guard. He was staying.

"Ducky thinks so," her eyes momentarily left his, tracking towards the floor. "It was shot off, for whatever it's worth." Good, she'd gotten his message. "Gibbs, do they have him? Do they have Mike?" Gibbs hadn't forgotten that Franks meant something to Abby as well. In reply he simply pulled her close, wrapping his arms around her. "Can you at least tell me who they are?" the girl protested his silence.

Gibbs kissed her cheek as he hesitated, wondering what he could tell her. She would say it wasn't a matter of safety, as she was already in danger, but so far if anyone was working against him from the inside, they at least did not have her in their sights. It needed to stay that way, and so she needed to not know too much unless she had to. And right now, she didn't have to. "No." he said almost silently into her ear, holding her for a moment more before turning to go.

As he left, the guard slipped back into the lab behind him. Abby stared dejectedly at the guard, but didn't protest his re-emergence. "I guess that's why superheroes have secret identities," she told the stoic, unresponding man.


	7. Sometimes You're Wrong

There was a certain amount of relief that flooded into him when Abby's report was laid on the table, though it probably didn't seem that way to the woman who placed it there. Sometimes, people saw what they wanted to see, and relief wasn't even on Hart's radar of things to look for in Gibbs at that moment. He was relieved, though, to see proof that Abby had followed through on sending the report. When neither Alejandro nor Vance had seen it, he'd been a little concerned. Ok, a lot concerned, but that had made him feel guilty for not trusting Abby to do what he'd asked (well, ordered was probably a more appropriate word). But she had, and nothing that came of this fiasco could come back on her.

Once that relief had run its course he had a brief tug of guilt for being in the process of missing Ziva's ceremony, but she too was on the list of people he needed to protect, and right now he wasn't sure M. Allison Hart wasn't someone he needed to protect them from. So her stayed put, and he listened to her as she continued to place things in front of him on the table.

"I've got my own code." He finally answered when she had finished.

"No, that doesn't work. This is the bullet that should end you," she leaned in, putting her hands on the table. "Do you think I want that?"

He tilted his head, trying to figure out what she did want. "I didn't ask you to stop it," he responded, making her back up a little. "What do you want, Allison? A thank-you? An apology?" He half-smiled at the last, bitterly.

"Why the hell not?"

"Because I've got a…rule…against it."

"Well, it's a stupid rule."

He could see the hurt there, and started to think there were more casualties in this than he'd realized, even if some of them couldn't exactly be considered non-combatants. Maybe she'd made a mistake in trusting Bell, but maybe…maybe…he could have made one in not trusting her. He wasn't quite ready to go that far, but she seemed to be telling him the truth, and that, on top of so much else that was happening, was enough to make him start to wonder. He gave her a slight nod. "Maybe it is."

"I wanted to know who you were. Who you are. As a person." Gibbs looked away, her words resonating too much of what Abby had said before, that night in his basement. Abby was with Ziva, where he should be, hopefully safe, but here he was, breaking one of his one rules. "Speaking as an officer of the law," she drew his attention back to Abby's report by laying a hand on it. "I think we can beat it."

She walked away, leaving the report in front of him. A sign of the trust Abby had put in him, something he was trying terribly not to betray again. The best way to do that was to simply not go to prison. And to do that, he might just have to break one of his own rules with Miss Allison Hart.


	8. I Love You

The drink sloshed around in the cup he carried as he got out of the elevator, striding into the forensics lab only slightly less quickly than normal, taking a good look at Abby sitting by her machines, hands on her hips as she scolded them for something or other that wasn't going right. The lights were dim, and it was unusually quiet. He couldn't help but smile as she pushed off too hard on her wheeled chair, almost running it right into him.

"Gibbs! I don't have anything for you," she started to babble as he took hold of the back of the chair, wheeling her over to the work station, where he set down the Caf-Pow he'd brought her.

"I know."

"And…I know that nothing's gone down yet, but I did send that report to the task force. I promise. I don't know why no one's even acknowledged it, seems really strange to me, not that, of course I want you to go to prison, but…"

"Abs."

"And you knew all of that already. I take it you've seen the report?"

"Yep." She stared at him, and he stared right back, feeling the parallels between that first stand-off in her lab, but this time it was different. A good sort of different. "Good work, Abs." Despite the contents of the report, it had been good forensics and someone needed to tell her so. Might as well be him, like usual. She was silent for a moment and he let her think about it, absently massaging her shoulders when she turned back to the workstation, putting her chin on her hands.

"Is it all over?" Gibbs knew she wasn't just referring to the cold case, but the entire ordeal, and his hands stayed steady on her shoulders when he responded.

"No."

"But it's all going to be ok, right? You'll…you'll get off on technicalities or something and the meanwhile we'll bring the cartel down and it'll all be ok." She swiveled around to face him again, looking sad and lost because she knew that probably wasn't exactly what was going to happen.

"It's going to be fine, Abs." He leaned in to kiss her forehead. "You'll all be safe and it'll work out just fine."

She nodded, however reluctantly, and because he couldn't resist he kissed her cheek as well before turning to go. It didn't draw a smile out of her like he was expecting, and he made it all the way to the door before looking back – still no smile.

"Hey!" he called to get her attention, before holding up his hand, folding in his middle and ring finger to sign 'I love you'. Abby grinned at him despite fighting tears and signed it back. He took that as his cue that it was ok to head back upstairs to get to work, and was rewarded by hearing her 'music' start up again as the elevator doors slid closed.


	9. Stillwater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is one of the chapters that is "filler" between seasons 7 & 8 when we were left hanging, so some things may not have been canon after this once season 8 ran.

"Gibbs." He flipped the phone open, held it to his ear as he sipped his coffee in the other hand and stared at the images displayed on the large screen in the bullpen. Colonel Bell, J.P Dean, Alejandro Rivera and Paloma Reynosa. He watched them as if they would start speaking and give him all the answers…even though two of them were already dead.

"Leroy," came the voice on the other end, sounding short of breath and tired.

"Dad?" Gibbs froze, coffee cup halfway to his mouth. "Is everything alright?"

"Actually, Leroy, some woman just came into my shop. Armed with a little pistol, little Mexican lady. She told me to tell you that she knows what you're doing, and it's not going to work. And then she got into this big dark SUV with tinted windows and drove off. Is this why you wanted me to go away for a while, with no explanation? I think I deserve an explanation now."

"She didn't hurt you?" Gibbs noticed he'd crushed the coffee cup in his hand without meaning to, and forced himself to relax his grip and drop it into the trash can. When he got an affirmative from the other end, he didn't let his father ask for explanations again. "Stay where you are, and we're coming to get you. You can have explanations when you're safe."

Snapping the phone shut, he turned to where all three of his agents were pretending not to be listening. So far, he personally had not involved them, though he knew they were starting to put the pieces together. "Ziva, go downstairs with Abby. Have her set you up a workstation in the lab. If you have to leave the lab for any reason, she goes with you. McGee, I want to know if there's any official record of Paloma Reynosa entering or leaving the country. Planes, hotels, taxis, anything. DiNozzo, you're with me."

They didn't ask questions, which was good because he wasn't in the mood for questions. Without another word he grabbed the keys off of his desk and walked to the elevator, Tony hurrying to catch up.

"Uh, boss? Where are we going?"

"Stillwater." Gibbs jabbed the 'down' button as the doors slid shut, his expression grim.

"Right." Tony decided now wasn't the time to ask why, and mutely followed Gibbs to the car, immediately buckling himself in. A drive with Gibbs could be risky on the best of days, and today definitely did not qualify as a good day. Not if they were headed to Stillwater in the middle of the day, and not even on a case. As soon as the key was in the ignition the car shot backwards and the whipped around, leaving the garage with more speed than could possibly be safe. Tony simply settled deep into his seat and steeled himself for sudden death.

He was genuinely surprised when they reached Stillwater in one piece, without so much as even being pulled over. Either Gibbs was the luckiest driver alive, or the local leos all recognized a fed car when they saw one. Tony rubbed his forehead as he stepped out of the car where Gibbs had parked it, several blocks from his dad's house and mostly hidden by the shady trees with their handing branches. His boss was already out and had unlocked the trunk, and now slammed it shut with a thud as he tossed something to Tony, who reflexively caught it. A bulletproof vest.

"Boss…?"

"Just put it on. Under your jacket, so no one sees it. And check your weapon." Gibbs shrugged out of his jacket and strapped on the vest before donning the restricting jacket once more and buttoning it to hide the protective gear. As Tony hastily followed suit, Gibbs unloaded and reloaded his weapon, just to be sure, and loosely holstered it. When Tony had finished the same, Gibb set off at a brisk, though apparently unhurried, walk. The crossed several streets and arrived in a circumspect way to the back of Jackson's store.

Gibbs reached for the handle, then looked back at Tony to make sure he was in place. He was glad to see that even without receiving any explanation, his senior field agent was calmly following his lead. When he'd unholstered and checked his gun one more time Tony gave his boss a slight nod, and Gibbs threw the shop's back door open. He went in high while Tony went in low, guns proceeding them. Tony slid around the corner into the storeroom.

"Clear."

Gibbs did the same for the next storeroom. "Clear." Tony took the shop's tiny bathroom, "Clear," and then they went together into the big room where Jackson was standing behind the counter, his gun removed from its revered position and resting in his lap…probably loaded. The blinds had been drawn, and the closed sign was up, Jackson having added a bit to the bottom that read 'Gone Vacationing. May Be Back, Maybe Not'.

"Took you long enough." He told them.

"Are you kidding? We nearly died!" Tony protested, earning himself a head slap from Gibbs, who was inspecting the room carefully.

"Ah, Leroy drove?" Jackson replied with a chuckle. Tony just winced at the memory.

"We're going out the way we came. I'll go first, Dad you can follow, and Tony you bring up the rear. Let's get out of here."

"And where are we going?" Jackson growled, though he was already following with no protest. "Will you tell me what's going on, for Heavens' Sake?"

"Later." Gibbs ground out, shooting him an annoyed and frustrated glance. Jackson simply shrugged complied, figuring he'd get his answers sooner or later. Within minutes they were back in the car, and Tony felt himself breath out a sigh of relief he hadn't known he was holding. He settled back against his seat for the return drive, happy he hadn't been pushed into the back seat, and thought about how much easier his job would be if Gibbs would tell them what was going on.


	10. An Ultamatim

"Gibbs." Ziva said quietly, looking up as her boss came into the lab, and gestured to where Abby was sound asleep with her head on her arms at her desk. He slowed at the sight to quiet his foot steps and changed course to put the caf-pow he'd retrieved in one of the refrigerated units to keep cold while she slept.

"She been out long?"

"She's been asleep since Tony called to say you were on your way back."

Gibbs watched the forensic scientist sleep, and his agent lean comfortably and loosely against the wall and was once again reminded of what he was protecting. It was hard to do with an unknown set of enemies. "I'll take over here. You, McGee, and Tony go back to Stillwater and find what can be found." He took Ziva's place against the wall, sipping from his coffee; not even looking up when the doors whoosed open a few minutes later, admitting his father.

The final incursion into her domain was just enough to wake Abby, though, and she mumbled something under her breath, slitting her eyes open. "Gibbs." She pushed off of the desk a little, yawning. "Where's Ziva?"

"Working."

She woke slowly, and it took her several seconds to realize that it wasn't just herself and Gibbs in the room. When she did, her eyes lit up with almost childish delight and she jumped up to give the old man a hug. "Jackson! I didn't know you were coming! Of course, Gibbs doesn't tell anyone anything but sometimes I know even if he's not telling anyone. Sometimes you tell me." She released him and bounced around to her workstation, still chattering happily. "Oh, goodness, it's late. I guess I should probably go home. But you and Gibbs have to come for dinner tomorrow! How long are you staying?"

"You're not going home." Gibbs pushed off the wall to discard his empty coffee cup in her trash can.

"You have evidence for me? No problem, boss-man, but I could probably work better if you let me get a few more hours of sleep…" Abby trailed off when he shook his head. "What's going on?"

"You and my dad are going to go stay in a safehouse for a while."

"But Gibbs! I have to work – you guys need me. And I need to work. If I don't work I won't be able to stand it. What about my babies? No one else can handle this equipment with the finesse it deserves. Don't you remember that time when you had Tony and McGee working in here? You need me!"

He couldn't help but grimace at that particular memory, but as it were he had no intention of her not working. "I didn't say you couldn't work, Abs. Just that you're going to be staying in a safe house when you're not in the office. And someone's going to escort you back and forth."

"Can't I just stay at your house?" she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "I don't want to be locked away somewhere with strangers."

"My dad will be there."

"He should stay at your house too."

Gibbs fixed her with a glare usually reserved for Tony or McGee, but it didn't have nearly the same effect on his favorite goth as it did on the boys. Jackson, watching the exchange with some amusement, covered a chuckle with a cough when Abby simply raised her chin stubbornly.

"So what's wrong with your house?"

"Paloma Reynosa found dad in Stillwater and held him at gunpoint in his own shop without anyone noticing. You think she couldn't find you – or him – even easier in a crowded suburb house?"

Since Abby had not known the reason for Gibbs' sudden trip to Stillwater, that at least was enough to make her pale a little bit and hesitate, but after a moment she plunged ahead again. "Then it's not safe for you either." She pointed an accusing finger at him. "I'll go to the safehouse if you stay there too."


	11. Alternative Conference Rooms

It was completely silent in the car, and there was an almost tangible sense to the silence. The man driving and the man in the passenger seat, who had no idea why their passengers were engaged in icy silence that almost felt like an argument they couldn't hear, were uncomfortable. The man they were sort-of taking orders from, or at least so their real boss said, was behind the driver's seat staring straight ahead. An even older man sat in the middle, and the strangest looking federal agent either man had ever seen was behind the passenger seat with a smug look on her face. The driver looked at his partner, who shrugged, and then silence continued uninterrupted. After all, Fornell had told them not to piss the Gibbs guy off, and he'd already seemed pretty mad when they arrived.

["We…um...I thought we were only picking up two passengers?"

Gibbs gave the unfortunate speaker a look that indicated he was contemplating him with about the same respect he would an insect he was about to step on. "Change of plans."

And neither of them had questioned him, once he'd flashed his badge at them, identifying himself as the man Fornell had told them not to piss off.]

And they'd all gotten into the car and not a word had been spoken since. It was a long and complicated drive that took most of the FBI agents' attentions, making sure they were not being followed. It was also a complex operation, since yet more agents had taken the NCIS agents' respective cars to their real residences. The same pattern would be repeated the next morning, and again and again until this protection detail was called off. It promised to be a long and tedious process, but it would keep them all alive.

Parking the car in the garage of the house they'd arrived at, the driver (who was the senior agent in the partnership) turned to address the trio but found that Gibbs had already gotten out, made it to the other side of the car, and was pulling the woman out of the car.

"We'll be back for your discussion of safe-house rules in a moment, gentlemen. Perhaps in the kitchen," Gibbs told them dismissively as he escorted Abby into the building, keeping a firm hand on her arm just to be sure she didn't pull away from him. Once inside he moved them into the first room he saw with a door on it, which just happened to be a bathroom. Which, in lieu of an elevator, was often his second choice of "conference rooms". He shut the door on the looks of perplexion on the FBI agents' faces and released her.

 _"Bully,"_ she signed fiercely, frowning at him.

"I'm agreeing to stay here with you when I can. But I have a job to do, and if I need to go somewhere else, you will be staying here anyway."

"But…"

"I'm compromising here, Abby, and I don't have to. I can place you in protective custody in Quantico or somewhere else equally impossible to penetrate, or you can agree to follow the rules."

"I wouldn't be able to work from Quantico!" Her hands were moving again, but he could discern no signs in them, she was simply fidgeting like she always did when she was emotionally distraught. Gibbs simply waited. "And I wouldn't see you, would I?" she continued, and he allowed a minute shake of his head in agreement.

 _"Fine."_ She signed and then pouted, arms crossed over her chest. Even though the gesture was still mutinous, he knew she'd keep her word and he softened, letting the tension drain away.

 _"That's my girl."_ He signed in response, smiling just a little at her as he did. It was a sign of how upset she was that she was lapsing so much into sign language, but it was also that she didn't want any of the curious listeners to hear her give in. She was such a stubborn little thing, but he didn't really mind. That's what made her Abby; as long as she was willing to capitulate when it came to her safety she could be as stubborn as she liked.

"One other thing. They're going to give you a panic button, and I don't want you to hesitate to use it – ever. Not only will it page our entire FBI protection team, but it will page me. If anything feels off, or suspicious, no matter what, you press that button."

"Sure, boss-man. You know I'll do whatever they say. I promised I would." Abby's face crumpled a little, hurt by the thought that he didn't trust her word. She might pitch a fit that he wasn't here too, and that Ziva and Tony and McGee were still out there working, but she wasn't going to argue about the things they dictated for her safety.

"I know." He pulled her close and brushed a kiss to her forehead, letting their heads linger close together for a moment longer than he normally would. "Gotta keep you safe, Abs." She sighed, knowing that was true, and he released her and opened the bathroom door back up, stepping aside to let her out first. Abby hesitated in the doorway, looking back up at him and turning to hide her hands from the curious faces in the kitchen, even though it was unlikely any of them signed.

_"You'll be here all night?"_

_"I promise."_

_"And other nights?"_

_"As often as I can."_

It wasn't quite good enough, but Abby knew when to back off and she knew that that was the best promise she was going to get out of her silver-haired fox at the moment. Steeling herself for a boring lecture on safe-house rules she'd heard dozens of times before (though never in quite so formal a context) she walked out into the kitchen, content with the knowledge that Gibbs was right behind her.


	12. Shutdown

Bouncing from her heels to toes, the girl waited for the elevator to descend to her floor, clutching her large black handbag to her chest. For the first time that week, she couldn't wait to get back to the safe-house. She had convinced the agent-in-charge, a man by the name of Agent Brent Ryman, to add baking supplies to the house's grocery list, and then made plans with Jackson to bake cookies that evening. He was lonely, she could tell, and she couldn't even fathom what he did all day in that big house all alone (except for the less-than-talkative agents, and they didn't really count).

They'd been staying in the safe-house after work hours and on weekends for going on two weeks now, with no sign of the elusive Paloma Reynosa. If anything, the silence from the enemies' end seemed to make her boss more nervous, and he was slipping out of the FBI's protective net more and more often, though he usually made good on his promise to try and be back each night at least. Abby sighed at that thought as she stepped into the elevator that had silently arrived on her floor (she could've sworn it used to ding on arrival…maybe that was how Gibbs snuck up on her. She hadn't noticed the change before).

Humming quietly to herself, thoughts once more on cookies and Jackson, she pushed the button for the ground floor as the doors whooshed shut, a smile on her face. Jackson wasn't nearly as sneaky as his son, though sometimes he tried to sneak up on her when she was cooking dinner or reading the forensics journals she charmed the agents into bringing with them when they came on duty. Her attention wandered to the article on the fallacies of ammunition identification that she'd read the previous night but her mind become one big blank when the elevator shuddered to a stop and the lights went off. The silence was eerie, because even the emergency lights that stayed on when Gibbs stopped the elevator to use it for private conversations were off.

And anyway, Gibbs wasn't even in the elevator, she noted. He was good at sneaking, but even she would have noticed someone getting on the elevator with her. It was kind of a small, enclosed space. A very small, enclosed space when the ventilation and the lights were off. Get a grip, she told herself firmly. You're not claustrophobic. You sleep in a coffin. But all she could hear was her own breathing, and it was a little scary. If the emergency power lights were out, that meant even the emergency call button probably wouldn't work, even if she could see to press it. Someone would notice the elevator wasn't working soon. Probably the whole building power was out, anyway. And they'd get it fixed.

But the minutes dragged by and she heard nothing, and the power didn't come back on. What if it wasn't just a power outage or an accident? What if it was someone trying to get her stuck in here? She was pretty sure she'd run out of oxygen eventually with no air return system. It was already getting a little stuffy. And if the elevator was broken, what if building security was broken too? Cartel druggies could be swarming the place and no one would know. The team would be caught unawares. And she'd be stuck in this elevator forever, or at least until it was too late to warn anyone.

Without realizing it, she had slid her hand into her pocket where she had put her panic button. She was supposed to press it if she felt anything wrong – anything at all. Well, if being stuck in an elevator wasn't wrong, she didn't know what was. If she pressed the button the protection detail would track her down and get her out right away. Not to mention it would page Gibbs, as well. And to be quite honest, she could do with the sight of Gibbs right now. Even if he _was_ annoyed that she had activated her protection over a broken elevator.

Abby pressed the button.

A moment later, she remembered that she could've just called Gibbs. Unless he really was engaged in deadly battle with Cartel forces outside the elevator already, of course. Dropping to her knees, she fumbled in the dark through her purse until her fingers found the familiar shape of her phone, which she pulled out and flipped open. She could call Gibbs now, and let him know she'd pressed the button on accident and that she really just needed out of the elevator. He'd understand. Maybe the team hadn't mobilized to her rescue yet anyway. She jumped to her feet again and flipped her phone open, but her stomach sank when she read the LCD screen.

No service. Zero bars. Not even enough to send a text. Not that Gibbs got those, but Tony or Ziva or McGee could've handled that and passed on a message. Damn. Wasn't service supposed to be _good_ in the federal buildings? Frustrated, she kicked the wall. Which hurt, even through the thick guard of her leather pumps. Well, she'd pressed the panic button anyway. Hopefully they got to her soon.

When what felt like forever had passed with Abby staring at the door of the elevator and in the general direction of the control panel, she gave up on standing and slid to the floor, back pressed against the wall. She opened her phone again and checked the time. It'd been almost forty-five minutes since she left her lab, and even if her panic button hadn't worked she should have been missed by now. It was past time to leave for the safe-house. Even as she reached her pocket and pressed her thumb down on the button again, real panic started to creep into her mind. What if they couldn't reach her? What if they were hurt, or worse, dead? What if the elevator doors were going to open and reveal not a whole bunch of FBI suits and Gibbs, but strangers who would kill her (or worse, use her to blackmail Gibbs!)?

Abby didn't usually carry a gun, though she often had a taser on her person, but being locked on a safe-house the majority of the time can have an effect on someone's psyche and she'd decided it couldn't hurt. She _was_ a federal agent, after all, and licensed. Her own gun was at her house locked away, but a few words to Ziva had gotten her a substitute from the NCIS armory (or perhaps Ziva's own personal armory; she didn't know and didn't ask). Not a word to Gibbs, because if she'd asked him for a gun he would have blamed himself for not keeping her safer. And not Tony, because he was all too likely to blab to Gibbs, on accident; he was much too loyal on that front. But Ziva had gotten the side piece quietly and with no fuss, and wouldn't even think of bothering to tell Gibbs unless he asked her directly. She probably wouldn't even realize Abby didn't normally carry.

Even as she pulled the gun out of her purse and loaded it, that thought caused Abby to smile wistfully. Her friend Ziva was so smart and talented, but sometimes she was oblivious to the small things like that. Abby wouldn't mind having Ziva by her side right now. If Ziva was here, Abby probably wouldn't even bother with the gun. She wouldn't have too. But she was alone in the elevator. Laying the loaded gun in her lap, she checked the time again on her phone. An hour. It'd been an hour, and no response.

How long did it take to fix a stupid elevator, anyway? She wanted to pull out her iPod and drown herself in her music, but she was worried about having her attention diverted in case the faces framed in the elevator door next time it opened weren't friendlies. Silence reigned. She almost didn't notice when the elevator started moving again, because no lights came on, and the air didn't turn on either. Only the gentle feeling of being in motion made her aware and she tensed, raising her gun and pointing it at the door. She had no plans to shoot it, even if it was Paloma Reynosa herself outside the door, but no one else needed to know that. When the door slid open, the light was nearly blinding anyway, so she needed have bothered. No one would have worried about her shooting when she couldn't even see what she might be shooting at.

"We've got her!" a voice called as soon as the door had slid open far enough for them to see Abby curled on the floor in the corner. The forensics expert blinked against the light and was able to determine that they had floodlights pointed into the elevator and that the halls beyond were dark – apparently the power was still out. "Ma'am, if you'd just lower the gun we can get you out of there," the voice turned soothing, though no one moved – probably, she realized, because she still had her gun trained on the door. The elevator hadn't quite made it to the floor before they'd forced the door open, and there was a couple foot drop between the floor the man was kneeling on and the elevator floor where she sat. Probably they had wanted the advantage in case there was someone in the elevator besides Abby – an enemy. Many of the agents clustered outside the elevator were wearing SWAT vests, and some were familiar faces. Abby lowered the gun slowly, letting it drop from her hand to the floor. Tony was hovering just slightly outside the elevator, obviously anxious to get to her but held back by the FBI team.

She sat silently as the agent with the soothing voice dropped into the elevator and helped her to her feet, lifting her up to his partner in the doorway. As soon as her feet touched solid ground Tony pushed through the agents to her side, a worried look on his face. "Tony," she muttered in relief, grabbing his hand tightly. "Where's Gibbs? And Ziva and McGee? And Ducky and-"

"Right over here, Abs." He put an arm around her shoulder and guided her back through the cluster of FBI men to the bullpen, where Gibbs was pacing impatiently, his phone pressed to his ear and a mean sort of frown on his face. She could see Ziva and McGee out of her peripheral vision, but her focus was on Gibbs, growling into his phone with an almost murderous look on his face.

"I don't care how it happened, fix it!" he finally ordered into the phone and snapped it shut, seeing Abby and Tony for the first time. "Abs," his face immediately fell into almost painful relief, and she flew across the distance between them to wrap her arms around him, choking back a sob. He rubbed one hand on her back, not trying to push her away. "She was in the elevator?" he asked over her head.

"Yes." Tony responded, sounding just as relieved.

"Where else would I have been?" she asked, voice somewhat muffled against Gibbs' shirt.

"Well, the signal from the panic button said you were in the elevator but you weren't answering your phone, so we were afraid the button was in the elevator and somehow you weren't," Tony explained. "And no one can get the power back on, and we're in lockdown until they can figure out what happened to disable even the back-up generators."

"I had no signal in the elevator." Abby pushed away from Gibbs to pull her phone out again, checking the display. "No signal now, either. That's weird. I have signal in my lab. Guess I've never checked anywhere else."

Gibbs turned and snagged an FBI agent walking by, glancing at his badge on his pocket as he addressed him. "Tell whoever is in charge here at the moment that Abigail Sciuto will be needing a satellite phone asap."

"Sir, we can't just _get_ satellite phones for people on your say-so. I don't know what kind of operation this has been so far, but I'm in charge of the SWAT team that responded and the FBI doesn't work on NCIS's whim," the man sneered at Gibbs, who was slowly straightening with murder in his eyes. Before he could verbally decimate the SWAT agent, the director walked up behind them, chewing on his customary toothpick.

"I don't know what you've been told, but I just got off the phone with your director and Special Agent Fornell and both have reaffirmed that Gibbs is to be given whatever he deems is reasonably needed to protect his team. Since you were unable to contact Miss Sciuto when the need arose, I believe a satellite phone is not an unreasonable request." Vance's tone was mild but he was chewing his toothpick with more than the usual force. "Don't you think?"

"I…yes, sir," the agent replied stiffly before stalking off, only to be replaced by Agent Brent Ryman, whom Abby was coming to truly like. He reminded her of Gibbs, in a way, and she was glad he was in charge of her protective detail. He nodded to them gravely, giving Abby a small smile.

"I'm glad to see you are safe, Miss Sciuto. I'm none too pleased about not being able to reach you, either, and I'd like you to reconsider your request not to have an agent with you at work. I can promise they'll do their best to be un-intrusive." Gibbs was nodding, and Abby had the feeling she was going to be overruled even if she continued to object. Of course, having just been stuck in an elevator for an hour with no idea what was going on she wasn't feeling much like protesting. "But we can discuss that later – for now I'd like to get _all_ of you back to the safe-house while we sort out this mess. Including you, Agent Gibbs."


	13. Where'd You Get It?

Abby was sitting in the living room, with the light on, even though the grandfather clock in the hallway had just struck two AM. She was having issues with the dark, and with being alone in the upstairs room she was using. Once they'd gotten home from the NCIS building (was it sad she was starting to think of this safe-house as home?) she'd spent the evening making cookies just like she'd planned, trying to ignore the tense conversations Gibbs was having on his phone as he wandered the house.

But eventually everyone else had gone to bed, and here she was sitting on the couch afraid to turn out the light. It was depression, really, what an hour in a dark elevator had done to her. Hopefully the fear was temporary.

The couch dipped as someone sat next to her, but she didn't have to look up to see who it was. Even when he wasn't working on his boat he managed to smell of sawdust. He was probably sneaking out t work on it. Or maybe that was really just what Gibbs smelled like, and so she _thought_ it was sawdust.

He took her hand in his and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, in soothing circles. "Problems sleeping?"

"Haven't tried. I can't turn out the light." She shifted to lean against him, her head on his shoulder. He couldn't go to jail over this, he just couldn't. She wouldn't survive without his shoulder to lean on if she needed it. Even the thought of knowing she could go to him, any time of day or night, and he would be there for her was sometimes enough. He didn't try and explain away the fear, he simply sat there and was his large, warm, comforting self. Abby was glad. She didn't need someone telling her why her fear was irrational.

"Tony said you had a gun."

His tone was neutral, and she wondered where he was going with that. He knew she didn't usually carry, but he also knew she'd passed all the tests and was licensed. Her score at the range was often higher than McGee's, even if she couldn't come close to Gibbs, Tony, or Ziva. "Yeah."

"Good girl," there was a smile under his words, and he wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a little squeeze, letting the silence stretch. "Where'd you get it?"

"Ziva," she responded, and settled a little more firmly into the couch, head sliding from his shoulder to his chest, feeling sleepy for the first time since everyone else had gone to bed.

"I would've gotten you a gun, Abs." He sounded a little bewildered, but she knew he still hadn't quite gotten used to the fact that she had completely jumped across to the "in favor" of Ziva side of the divide from her tenuous position straddling the divide that she'd maintained for quite a while. It wasn't a brand-new development, her whole-hearted acceptance of Ziva, but it wasn't quite settled in Gibbs' mind yet either.

"You had enough to worry about," she murmured, fighting to keep her eyes open. He was quiet, she supposed turning that over in his head. He would worry now anyway, but at least he wasn't worrying about how to protect her if she did get separated from the FBI team. He'd remembered she was pretty good at protecting herself. What she didn't know was that he was also thinking about Ziva, and how much he wished he could stash the former Mossad agent away in the safe-house like he was doing with Abby. He had Abby somewhat safe with guards and safe-houses and satellite phones, but he could do nothing for Ziva without hampering her place as a working member of his team. It was frustrating beyond belief. She was growing too close to his heart, and now the rest of the team's as well. They'd been fond of her before but she'd been only partially theirs – and partially her father's. But with her gaining citizenship, she was now a full member of the team and they could love her unreservedly. For him, that was scary. He doubted Abby was scared, but then she loved so much more easily than he did.

Looking down, he saw that she was asleep. Carefully, he shifted her to a more comfortable position and leaned back on the arm of the couch. If she needed someone there to sleep, they'd just sleep on the couch together.


	14. Be Safe

The next day when Abby got to her lab and settled in for the day, reaching for her black lipstick and trying to ignore the FBI agent that was now stationed by her door. There was no back exit from her lab, so thankfully he didn't follow her around. Yet. Another incident like yesterday's and she was pretty sure she'd have three or four shadowing her every step. Yesterday had shaken Gibbs more than he'd admitted to the FBI; but she could see it. As she returned her lipstick to her purse, her fingers encountered something hard and metallic, and she pulled it out carefully, smiling bemusedly. At some point, someone had put her pistol back. Well, they'd replaced it with a pistol anyway – she'd never know the difference.

But yesterday had scared her, too, and her purse wasn't good enough. Abby leaned down and reached into the very back of her very bottom desk drawer and retrieved a rather dusty basic NCIS-issue holster she couldn't remember ever actually using, brushing it off and clipping it clumsily to her studded belt. Which, she noted, could be used as a weapon in and of itself. Sliding the handgun into the holster, she practiced drawing it a few times, making sure she remembered how the safety on the holster worked. She did. But then again, when Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs teaches you something it tends to stay taught, and way back when, she'd actually been just as intimidated by him as everyone else (though she hadn't let it show). A small smile lingered on her face as she thought of that day.

[Abby was brand-new with NCIS, working alone in a huge lab with the most amazing equipment. The only downside of her new job, as far as she could tell, was the gun they'd issued her with only the most basic training to get her carry permit, and definitely no extensive training on its use. She was used to rifles, hunting weapons, but this little gun – and especially its holster! – were foreign and uncomfortable. But everyone seemed to wear them, so she did too. It was even more uncomfortable than wearing her lab coat all day, every day to hide her goth outfits, which she wasn't sure were exactly allowed. Now, though, she was ready to go home for the night so she reached for the gun to lock it away. As usual, the safety on the holster eluded her and she fumbled with it, unaware that she'd cocked the gun inadvertently until warm, rough hands suddenly covered hers and froze her in place, taking the gun away and rendering it harmless again, while she watched, with an ominous click. Her eyes journeyed upward to see who'd interfered and she met the inscrutable blue eyes of Special Agent Gibbs, one of the few of her new colleagues who was actually as intimidating as she thought all federal agents were supposed to be. He unloaded the gun and handed it to her, butt-first.

"Did anyone actually teach you how to use that?"

"Um, no…I mean, not really. Not the holster, I mean, I can use the gun I guess. It's not much different than my rifles except…it is." Abby knew she finished lamely, heck, she didn't sound certain of anything, but Gibbs merely frowned a little harder. He set down his coffee and reached for her holster (because, she noted, his was not standard issue) and to her infinite surprise proceeded to patiently explain how it worked, and then drill her in its use until she was quite sure she could have used it properly in her sleep. When he was satisfied, he asked her if she had the results of a test she was running for his team. She did, and she retrieved it and explained it to him. He told her she should have called him with the results. Abby felt like she couldn't do anything right, and realized as he walked away that she had missed her weekly bowling practice with the sisters. But she had more tests to run now, that she'd overlooked the first time and had only recalled as she and Gibbs discussed the evidence. She was feeling awfully frustrated when he stopped in the doorway and turned around.

"By the way, you're not a field agent, so you don't have to carry if you don't want to. And you don't have a dress code." He hesitated a moment and then said, "It's late. Don't work too much longer. The case can wait until tomorrow." Suddenly, Abby felt so much better.]

It hadn't taken her long to figure out he was only gruff because that was the way he was, and not much longer than that to worm her way into his heart. The slosh of ice and liquid brought her back to the real world, and she looked up to see Gibbs in the doorway between the inner and outer room, shaking a Caf-Pow to get her attention. She bounced out to take it from him, grinning broadly.

"Gibbs! You haven't brought me anything new. I don't have anything for you."

"Tony, McGee, and I are going to Mexico to act on the warrants we got for some of Paloma's goonies." He told her, touching the ends of one of her pigtails almost as if he wasn't sure what else to do with his hand. Or like he was making sure she was still there. "Ziva's staying with you and dad at the house."

"Can't the FBI take care of the warrants?"

Gibbs gave her a look. "Our warrants, not theirs, and we don't have the permission yet to bring them back here, only interview them on Mexican soil."

"But-" But she knew that he had to keep working this case. To find Frank and his family, to keep the team and his dad and everyone else safe. Abby sighed, and he rewarded her acceptance with one of his rare smiles, though it was a sad one. She threw her arms around him, squeezing tight. "Be safe!"

He returned the hug, feeling the now-familiar guilt because she was wearing the replacement gun he'd gotten her openly today, and she'd even dressed more conservatively, a sure sign she wasn't doing so hot. Her t-shirt was white, which was as close to normal as he'd ever seen unless she was forced, and her usual skirt had been replaced by black cargo pants, though she still had on a chunky pair of real black combat boots, and her belt had metal spikes set into it. He kissed her cheek as a farewell, and turned to go, setting down the Caf-Pow on his way out. "Always am, Abs."


	15. Rule 15

For some reason, Vance hadn't done anything about Abby's report. Stuck on this train of thought, Gibbs leaned back against the netting of the harness system, watching DiNozzo sleep and McGee fidget. The way his eyes were mostly closed, he looked to be asleep, so he could observe the men sitting across from him without them knowing. His team thought he had a plan, but to be honest he hadn't thought he'd still be working by this point. Typically, unsolved murders with new forensic evidence got attention pretty quickly – but maybe Mexico wasn't so quick to the draw. It was their murder, after all.

The plane shook in turbulence, tilting unmistakably into landing position. DiNozzo woke, and Gibbs watched him rag on the ill-looking McGee. He knew that if he did go to jail, his team would survive. Tony, Tim, and Ziva would be fine. Some hurt feelings maybe, but they'd be none the worse for the experience.

Abby was different. She'd recover eventually, maybe, but he wasn't sure it would ever be a complete recovery. And she'd lose all confidence in herself and her work, if it sent him to prison. It would all be his fault, too, which is why already the guilt was eating at him. The plane came to a halt and he stood, abruptly, leaving DiNozzo and McGee to scramble to catch up. When he hit the tarmac of the runway, he finally broke out of his thoughts and looked up, giving the party that had come to receive them a once-over…which turned into a long stare aimed at one Alejandro Riviera.

He couldn't believe he'd ever let this dirt bag get so close to his team. To Abby, especially. The goth was smitten with the man – Gibbs wasn't sure how she missed the underlying danger that seemed to ooze from the Mexican, but then again Abby wasn't exactly known for her great taste in men. And she didn't have the full story.

"Gibbs. We meet again." The man extended his hand, but Gibbs ignored it, and he didn't miss the hardening of Alejandro's features at the snub. He felt Tony and McGee move into place behind him, obviously uncomfortable with the tension. "It's really a shame that Miss Scuito's report was inconclusive," the man continued, watching Gibbs carefully. "I had thought that if anyone would be able to make heads or tails of such a cold case, surely it would be her. But no matter, we've got our own set of experts working on it now, and I heard they've made fascinating progress."

"You're wasting your time," Tony replied, covering the awkward silence as his fuming boss made a mental note to call Abby as soon as he was someplace with no listening ears. For her sake, she better have been telling him the truth about giving the task force the real – and complete – report. "If Abby can't solve it, nobody can."

Alejandro gave the senior field agent a patronizing smile instead of a response and then gestured to the waiting black SUVs, guarded by more Mexican agents. "I thought so too, before," he said, as if he couldn't resist the dig, "But we've spent enough time here, in the heat. Let's get you back to the embassy. Tomorrow promises to be a long day."

* * *

As they settled into the suite the Mexican government had provided them with, Gibbs went into the kitchenette to start a pot of coffee. He was well aware when DiNozzo and McGee came into the room and stood uncomfortably near the entrance, as if each was waiting for the other to speak. He tried to ignore them, but finally decided that if he let them get it over with, they'd leave him alone.

"Do you _need_ something?" he snapped, turning around. Tony looked at McGee, who shook his head and mouthed what looked like 'No way, this was YOUR idea'.

"Uh, Boss, we were just wondering if you could…you know…tell us what was going on now? Like, the whole story?" Gibbs didn't answer, just gave them a hard look and sipped from his coffee mug. Tony fidgeted for a moment, and then glared back at him, throwing his arms up in the air. "We're trying to back your plays, protect the team, and do our jobs. But we don't know what's going on, and that makes it nearly impossible!" He pauses, and Gibbs watched him run his hand through his hair in frustration. "Rule 15, Boss."

Rule 15. Always work as a team. Gibbs took another long sip of caffeine, and then set his mug down. He didn't know how much he could tell them – or how much they'd already figured out. Abby knew the most, but he figured between Tony and Ziva they might have gotten some of it figured out. And what they knew, McGee was sure to know. Even if it was only because he hacked their computers.

"We're here to find out who tried to attack NCIS, as well as who threatened my father, and Abby," was his response. He knew that wasn't what they were looking for, but if they took it…the look Tony gave him told him that they wanted more than that. He picked up his coffee mug, looked into its depths. It would be safer for them not to know. Safer for them, but they didn't seem much interested in their own safety…they were all too willing to put their necks on the line to save his. It was misplaced loyalty, but none of them had figured that out yet.

And it would be better if they worked as a team. So he told them, though he left out anything Abby didn't already know. There was no reason to put them in more danger than absolutely necessary. When he finished, he filled his mug again. "I'm going to check in with Abby and the protection detail. You two should probably get some rest." He said it casually, but wasn't surprised when they had both vanished from the room by the time he turned around – to call Ziva, no doubt. He smiled briefly, amused at their antics, but then couldn't help but frown as he took out his phone. It was time to call Abby – and get the truth.


	16. A Discussion

After the agents left him alone in the suite's kitchenette, Gibbs drained his coffee mug and poured the last of the new pot into his paper to-go cup, a remnant of a coffee pit-stop on the way in from the plane. Once his caffeine was restocked, he let himself out and descended into the streets. He didn't trust the suite to be bug-free, but it was crowded enough out here that even if someone was following him, his conversation would be mostly private.

With motions quick and practiced, he dialed Abby's number. It range a few times, and then finally someone picked up.

"Hang on a minute," Abby's voice came over the phone, distracted, and then he heard a variety of loud, interesting noises. Sipping again from his cup, he wondered what the heck she was doing. When it became quiet again, he heard a scuffle as she picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Abby."

"Gibbs!"

"What were you doing?" He was sure she wasn't still at work. She felt bad leaving Jackson alone all day by himself, much less evenings, and he'd given strict orders to both Ziva and the protection detail that she not be allowed to overwork herself.

"I was cooking," she admitted, voice sheepish.

"Why?" Abby had a few recipes up her sleeve for things like team dinners at Ducky's, mostly desserts, but as a general rule, it was not a good idea to set her loose in a kitchen for anything else. Especially not dinner, which is what it was time to be making back home.

"Are you saying I can't cook?" came the indignant reply.

"Well, Abs, if the shoe fits…"

"I was helping Ziva cook, but she got a call too and she left me to finish a few things and get them in the oven."

"Helping?"

"Ok, mostly watching. Did you know Ziva can cook? Like, real food, not the stuff out of boxes or cans. And it actually tastes good. I mean, Tony cooks, but only Italian, and how hard is pasta, really? It's mostly out of boxes too, but Ziva-"

"Abby."

"Sorry," he could almost see her smiling in his mind; he knew she wasn't sorry. Just like she knew he didn't really mind the rambling. "Did you need something, boss-man?"

"You guys doing ok?"

"Yeah. I mean, Ziva's already getting claustrophobic but she hasn't done anything drastic yet. And Jackson's lonely, but since most of NCIS's manpower is focused on who shut down the power, I don't have much work to do so we've been at the house with him a lot," she paused, and he could hear her breath catch ever so slightly. "But I don't think that's why you called, is it?"

"No," he had his phone tucked in between his shoulder and his ear so that he could rub the bridge of his nose. He wanted to get to the bottom of this pretty quick, but he knew if he pushed too hard at the wrong time she'd just hang up on him. Until now, he'd thought that he'd gotten a pretty good handle on the anger, but now he felt it burning in the pit of his stomach again. Taking a good hold of his phone again, he resumed walking. This would be so much easier if he was there in person – which is why, he guessed now – she'd been avoiding him before he left for Mexico. Miss Abigail had the worst poker face of anyone he'd ever met, at least around him, and she must not have wanted to risk giving anything away. "I've got a problem, Abigail."

"Gibbs-"

"Let me finish," he interrupted her, knowing that he'd probably just totally psyched her out by using her given name, rather than any of the nicknames he used regularly, at her request and as a sign of his affection. But since she couldn't see him, his usually stare-down-and-wait-for-a-confession tactic wasn't going to work, and he was going to have to try something else. "I respect your abilities and I think you're brilliant, but there are times when I need you to do what I say, for your protection. I love you, and I am trying to protect you without hampering your independence or your job, but in order for that to work, I need you to do certain things. Now, the problem is that I think you lied to me about doing one of those things, and in doing so put yourself in danger. If you come clean now, this is going to be a lot easier on both of us."

"That…that was a lot of words, for a man of so few words," she was nearly whispering. He said nothing. It was only a matter of time now before she started to suffer from what she'd once referred to as 'diarrhea of the mouth' and told him everything, with little or no prompting from him. It worked better when she was under the scrutiny of his glare (or at least the version he reserved for her), but he was guessing she was feeling guilty enough about lying to him that it would happen anyway. "It wasn't really a lie," she said to break the silence, and he could hear her fidgeting as the chains that were always hanging from one part of her or another jingled. "And you always say it's better to ask forgiveness than permission."

Again, Gibbs heard the catch in her breathing that indicated distress (not tears – it took a lot more than this to drive his Abby to tears) and felt a little remorse for putting her through this, but he needed the answers and she needed a little bit of his anger so she'd quit hiding things from him. "Explain, Abby," he relented just a little in his tone, letting it coax rather than accuse.

"I did turn the report over to the task force representative! All of it, exactly what I'd found. It's just…the representative was Allison, you know, Hart. And she was taking it to the elites of the task force, and I guess that didn't include anyone with any connection to the cartels, so she knew it was safe. And…she talked them into it not being a big deal, you know, because it was such a cold case and he was a drug cartel leader and I don't know the details, b-but she asked me to make a new copy of the report for the big kahunas to show to everyone else that said my results were inconclusive. So I did! But I didn't lie to you, Gibbs! You asked if I turned it in, and I did! You didn't _ask_ anything else."

"And Vance?"

"What about him?" he tone still oozed with hurt and supplication, but now she was just confused. He wanted to comfort and soothe, but he had a few more questions.

"Did he see it?"

"No. I gave my copy directly to Allison and he didn't ask to see it. He did…politely suggest that I delete all of my digital copies in the lab, since it wasn't our case." Striding down the street under the glow of windows and lamps, he considered her words in silence. Only the sound of their respective breathing (mostly hers) echoed over the lines. It was several moments before she spoke again, and then she was careful with her words, hesitant.

"Gibbs?"

"Mmhm?" It was absent minded, because he was still lost in thought – confused as to why M. Allison Hart would protect him, still upset that Abby had felt the need to hide it from him, relieved that perhaps it really wasn't going to separate him from his team – his family – and send him to jail. Wondering how he was ever going to hide that relief and act normal around them.

"Are you mad at me?"

At that, he stopped so abruptly he would've spilled coffee down himself if his cup wasn't mostly empty. "I'm never mad at you, Abs. Angry that you did something to put yourself in danger, maybe, or that you lied to me about, but never mad at you." He forced his tone to gentle, wishing he could hold her or kiss her temple or sign 'I love you'…anything to return the situation to their normal status quo. He felt bad now, because she had been telling the truth (mostly) and he knew she was already stressed about it enough, he didn't need to add him (her protector) accusing her of anything. Despite popular belief, he did have a heart. And it was breaking at the sad tone in her voice.

"So you still love me?"

"Abs, I will always love you. No matter what you do, or say, or what happens."

"Promise?"

"I promise," he heard Ziva in the background, sounding concerned, followed by his dad's voice. "You going to be ok?"

"Yeah."

"Good. Be good till we can get back there, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am," he was relieved to hear her laugh, though it was subdued. Dinner with Ziva and Jackson would make it better.

"Night, Abs."

"Night, Gibbs. Stay Safe."


	17. Not A Success

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was starting to think this ordeal would never end. He was back in the military transport, to all appearances taking a nap while they beat their way across the sky back to Washington. Tony was sleeping – snoring, in fact – across from him, and McGee was doing something with his phone. Gibbs had no idea what, since he certainly didn't have cell service in the air, but he was leaving the men to their own devices, all of them frustrated with what they had (or more accurately, hadn't) gotten out of their warrants.

Many of the 'bad guys' had been perfectly willing to cooperate with the American federal agents – mostly because they were all afraid that if they didn't, they'd end up serving time in an American jail somewhere for somehow being involved in drug dealing with or to members of the United States Navy. Despite their cooperativeness, however, they'd had precious little pertinent information to offer. They were the men off of the streets – they could roll on their immediate betters in the hierarchy, but they couldn't give them anything on Reynosa or her plans. That was reserved for men much higher up than they.

Gibbs was perfectly willing to stay and follow that chain of command as far as he could, but neither the federales nor Vance was too keen on him staying very long. So he was on his way back, to chase any lead he could get on their own soil. It wasn't enough, he knew it wasn't enough, and he was terrified that Paloma would get to them before he could get to her.

* * *

Abigail Scuito was starting to think she'd never get her team – her family – back without this ordeal hanging over their heads. She was standing on the tarmac beneath one of her signature parasols, Ziva silent and solemn beside her, eyes somehow everywhere at once. It had taken a lot of arguing to get the team's newest member to escort Abby out of the safehouse and the navy yard, the places that the FBI had deemed 'acceptable' and bring her to meet the transport from Mexico. She'd been losing until she threatened that she'd sneak out of both Ziva and the FBI's protective net; the FBI agents and Ziva had been uncertain whether she could pull that off, and didn't want to face Gibbs' wrath if she did.

So here they were. Agent Ryman had arranged for a nearly double contingent to make sure nothing could go wrong, and he currently stood on her other side, arms crossed over his chest. Neither of them was very happy with her, but while she was sorry for worrying them and putting more stress on them to protect her in an unsecured environment, she was more worried about Gibbs. It had been almost two days since they discussed her report (and her kind-of lying) and though he'd told her everything was ok between them, she wouldn't really believe him until she saw him, looked into his eyes. He was too good a liar otherwise.

She suspected that Ziva knew how she was feeling, had picked up on her inner turmoil, or the former Israeli would not have given in to the forensic scientist's demands so easily, threats or not. Ziva had dealt with unwilling protective detail-ees before, and little Abby could come up with would probably seriously faze her. Ryman was a little more cautious. He'd heard plenty of stories of her escapades and history as they were arranging the protection, and Gibbs had more than once drawn him aside and reminded him not the let the goth's friendly, happy-go-lucky, and sometimes irrepressibly child-like attitude fool him into complacency. He'd never lost a witness before, and he wasn't about to start with one so well beloved by such a host of dangerous people.

Abby peeked up at him through her mostly see-through parasol as he raised a hand to listen to his earpiece, then turned to her, crossing his arms over his chest once more. He was almost as intimidating as Gibbs, she thought. It was too bad for them that she wasn't intimidated – she knew they both had something less hard underneath all that gruff. "The plane's going to be here soon," he said, and then held up a hand to silence her when her expression brightened and she started to open her mouth. "As we discussed earlier, if you want to stay out here and not be taken inside – forcibly, if necessary – you will wait exactly where you are and the rest of your team will be brought to you. An aircraft transport of this sort is a relatively easy place to hide out, and we will not risk there being some debarking that may have not been invited, who might be here to cause you harm. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she agreed, adding "sir," as an afterthought. They'd already had a very long discussion about the likelihood of her ever leaving the safehouse again if she didn't do exactly as he told her too – and she was pretty sure her boss would back that one in a heartbeat. Especially if they hadn't been successful in Mexico.

A plane finally came into view to accompany the roaring drone she'd been hearing for the last few minutes – apparently, she observed, transports were not stealth planes. She wasn't aware of bouncing from her toes to her heels and back again (and again…and again) until Ziva's hand came down on her shoulder. "Relax, Abby."

"But Ziva! We haven't heard from them since yesterday. What if something happened? What if somebody's hurt?"

"I'm sure if there was any change, they would have told us." Ziva said simply, ever the reasonable one. Abby wasn't really into reasonable at the moment. As the plane drew closer and closer, the nervous knot in her stomach got bigger and bigger, seeming to choke her. She wasn't sure she could handle it if Gibbs was still mad at her. Since Ziva's hand was still holding her still, preventing her from bouncing, she settled for spinning her parasol in circles instead, casting funny-patterned shadows over the three of them.

Time seemed to stretch forever. The plane landed, and it was swarmed with men disembarking and doing military-plane-things as well as an FBI crew escorting the NCIS agents off. For a few minutes, it was nothing but chaos; finally a small group detached from the mass of far-off people and came towards them. Abby stilled completely, having to remind herself to breath as they got closer. She looked at Tim first; he was looking tired and wrinkled but otherwise no worse for the wear. Tony got her scrutinization next, and he noticed her gaze and grinned back. Finally, as they came to a stop in front of her, Abby looked at Gibbs. He was more than tired – he was exhausted. There was a semi-permanent haunted look in his eyes now, and she would swear that he had more white in his salt-and-pepper hair.

Without really thinking about it, she threw her arms around him, nearly whacking Tony in the face with her parasol as it swung around. Gibbs' arms came up around her, catching her, and briefly he rubbed her back before letting her slide to the ground. "What are you doing here, Abs, Ziva?"

"Abby did not want to wait for you to arrive at the safehouse. She was very anxious."

Abby could feel Gibbs looking at her, gaze appraising, and knew he knew it hadn't been that easy to convince her guardians to come wait for the plane. But she was relieved when he apparently decided to save any discussion for later, instead wrapping an arm around her shoulders while Tony tugged affectionately at one of her pig-tails. "We missed you too, Abs," Tony laughed as they walked to the cars that had been pulled around for them. Tony, McGeee, and Ziva slid into the backseat of the first, leaving Gibbs and Abby to slide into the second. She looked across the seat at him, and then at the FBI agents in the front, and then back to him.

He simply shook his head and put a finger to her lips for a split second. "We'll talk at the house, Abby," was all he said, as he pulled out his phone to make the obligatory we're-back call to Vance.


	18. Quiet in the Turmoil

She was curled up on the couch in the living room, eyes closed and attention fully focused on the music blaring out of her headphones – he could hear the murmur of it from where he stood leaning against the door frame, watching. Tony and McGee had gone back to the office to report in person. Ziva and Jackson had made themselves scarce, though not before he made a point to ask how Abby managed to convince everyone that they should leave the FBI's safety net. She'd been remarkably championed, first by his father ("I don't know that she did anything but ask, Leroy"), then by Ziva ("We were all worried, Gibbs") and even by Ryman ("It was on a military property…it wasn't too hard to secure"). How she'd managed to wrap the stoic FBI agent around her finger already, Gibbs had no idea. He liked to think he'd held out a while when he first met her.

She didn't notice him until he walked over and sat down next to her, and then her eyes snapped open, blinking when she realized it was him. Her thumb hovered above the controls on her iThingy (she'd bought him one, even put music on it, but he rarely touched it) but after a moment she turned it off and pulled the earbuds out of her ears, letting them pool absently in her lap. Her eyes followed them down and she didn't look at him directly. Gibbs waited to see if she would say something…she didn't.

"You needed to see me so bad you dragged half the FBI to the base today, but you have nothing to say?" he asked her, giving her a quizzical look.

"I just needed to _see_ you," she replied, and then paused to see if he'd accept that as an answer. He took a sip of the coffee he had in his hand, said nothing. If he waited her out, she'd start talking. She looked up at him then, "I thought you might still be mad at me. About the report. Because I can't tell if you're telling the truth over the phone."

Gibbs settled for simply giving her an exasperated look. Yes, he understood that this situation had thrown her totally off-kilter and that she was struggling to decide what to think and feel, but that didn't excuse putting herself (and everyone else) in potential danger for something as trivial as seeing him an hour before she would have seen him anyway. She fidgeting beside him for a moment.

"I know, I know, but we weren't really in danger. I was the only non-combatant and they didn't really think anyone would try anything at the base anyway."

"Abby, any danger is unacceptable." Gibbs leveled her with a look again. "Stop arguing with Ryman and his team."

"Fine." She huffed, looking straight ahead. Apparently, she was going to ignore him. He sipped his coffee again, wondered how long that would last.

Two sips later, she looked at him again. "You're sure you're not mad at me anymore about the report?"

"I'm not mad, Abs."

The couch shifted as she relaxed into it, sighing with relief. She slid across the couch and leaned against him, staring out the window into the darkness beyond. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder, gaze directed the same place, though he wasn't really paying any attention to the windowscape at all.

"You're gonna catch these guys, right bossman?"

"Yep."

She stretched out using most of the couch, still leaning on him, head on his chest. He smiled to himself, and then let his head lean back on the top of the cushion, setting his coffee on the table next to him. He didn't remember falling asleep, but the rest of the team found them sitting in the same positions in the morning.


	19. No News is Good News

Abby and Gibbs got out of the elevator together, silently shadowed by a few observant and tense FBI agents who glared suspiciously out the tall picture windows and into the squad room. Abby nearly bounced over to Tony's desk, peering over his shoulder at whatever he was quickly shutting down on his computer screen as he began the chorus of greetings with "Hey boss," followed by McGee's "Morning boss" and Ziva's "Good morning, Gibbs". He merely grunted a response and sipped his coffee as he walked around his desk and sat down, logging into his computer and keying into his voicemail. The bantering of his team became background noise, though he watched Abby perch herself on the edge of McGee's desk out of the corner of his eye, and didn't miss Tony tossing paper airplanes at Ziva.

It made him glad, that even now, they still acted like his team. More of a family, really. In a dysfunctional sibling kind of way. He can't help but crack a half-smile, but it quickly fades and he stands up abruptly, slamming the phone into its cradle. "Tony, McGee, don't you have leads you are supposed to be following? Ziva, with me. Abby…" he paused to look at her as she slipped off the desk, twirling her fingers.

"I know, I know. Stay with my bodyguard. Do whatever the security detail says. Don't push the boundaries."

"Yep," he ignored the slight sarcasm in her tone, knowing how hard it was for her to stay and be under lock and key while the rest of the team was in danger. Turning, he followed Ziva into the elevator.

Abby took the stairs down to her lab, ignoring Derryn following her. Without much enthusiasm, she set to work on old evidence, hoping that maybe she'd missed something that would end this. On her desk, both her office phone and cell phone lay ominously silent. But….no news was good news…right?


	20. Close Call

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is where we start trying to tie everything I wrote between 7 & 8 into what happens in season 8!

"Gibbs, there is nothing here," Ziva said, pushing her gun back into its holster with a little more force than necessary. He rubbed a hand over his face, tired of following leads only to find the object of their focus - Paloma Reynosa – already long gone. He didn't verbally agree with her but he led the way back to the car, picking up his vibrating phone off the dashboard as he slid into the driver's seat. Flipping it open, he started the car and headed out onto the road.

"Yeah, DiNozzo, what do you got?"

Ziva looked over at her partner's name, and then nearly choked in shock when suddenly the car hurdled forward at a ridiculous speed, throwing her back against her seat. She was glad she'd buckled her seat belt.

"Get them someplace safe," Gibbs growled into his phone and then threw it into the cupholder so he could use both hands to drive.

"Um, Gibbs? What is going on?"

"Paloma was at the safehouse."

"Abby and Jackson…?"

"They're fine. She's not done playing her game yet," he growled, pressing his foot down on the accelerator and sending the car to even higher speeds as they raced the clock to get there before she slipped out of their grasp – again. When the finally reached the former safehouse – now a buzzing crime scene – Ziva had an inkling of why Tony never let her drive and was resolved to try to scare her partner a little less in the future. But this thought was fleeting, fading in favor of determination as they slid under the tape and met Tony halfway. He looked grim, and tired.

"McGee and the main security detail took Abby and Jackson back to NCIS," he said, falling into step with Gibbs and Ziva as the team leader continued to walk towards what appeared to be the hub of activity. "Franks is here – he's with them. Vance was here but he got called back by his assistant – apparently Alejandro wanted to see him. There were only three injuries, and one casualty. Ours, unfortunately. The FBI guys were taken to the hospital and they called in reinforcements to help search, but since we haven't found her yet they're guessing we're not going to."

They reached the table, and the man standing there turned to face them. Tony stayed a step behind as Gibbs moved forward, still silent but visibly relaxing to see Fornell there. His FBI counterpart held up a hand to silence the people trying to update him and addressed Gibbs instead. "She's gone again, Gibbs. And on the off chance that she didn't pull another runner, we'll find her."

"You'd better," Gibbs responded aggressively, but then he paused, taking a moment to breathe and to remember who he was talking to. Fornell was a friend, not an enemy, and only the stress of the moment would make him forget that. "Your guys ok?"

"Latest update, everyone will make a full recovery," Fornell responded. "And we've got this covered. You go back and check on your team, figure out where we go from here."

Gibbs gave a short nod and turned, taking a long look at the safehouse before gathering his people to head back to NCIS. It was time to end this.


	21. Regroup

Gibbs walked into NCIS with Tony and Ziva close behind him, surveying the scene that was before his eyes. His father was sitting at Tony's desk, Franks was at Ziva's, and Abby was at his, her bodyguard standing nearby; McGee was nowhere to be seen and while they all looked tired, nobody was injured. His eyes rested on briefly on Jackson, a little harder on the until-now-missing Franks, and then came to settle on the forensic scientist. She was curled up into his chair, arms around her knees, head down, and apparently hadn't noticed him yet. He, however, very much noticed her. She was exhausted, past exhausted, or she would have already noticed him.

"Mike," he turned to the man first, "So glad you could finally join us. Where have you been?"

"It's complicated, probie," came the growled response, and while that wasn't enough to satisfy Gibbs, he turned his attention to Abby who had lifted her head when they started talking. She just stared at him, too exhausted to even ask any questions. Gibbs went to her, drudging up a smile and briefly touching her cheek, the moment reassuring the both of them that everything was still ok.

"Why don't you go down to the lab and crash for a while, Abs? I'm sure there's going to be evidence to process in a while so you'd better rest while you can." He knew she kept a futon there, and he wanted her safe in NCIS headquarters for as long as possible – and there was going to be evidence. Plenty of it. Anything in the safe house was fair game, because they weren't going back there.

"Ok." She agreed without argument, and he helped her to her feet and watched her disappear into the stairwell with Derryn. She still wasn't using the elevators, he noted, but pushed that issue aside for later.

"Dad, Mike, go with Tony. They're setting up fort at my house for now – it's as safe or safer than a safe house, apparently. And no, Mike, you can't help with the investigation, Vance has already vetoed that. Gibbs ignored the disgruntled look his former mentor and partner gave him, instead turning his attention to Ziva and McGee, who came down the stairs from MTAC and entered the bull pen as Tony, Jackson, and Franks headed out. "McGee, please tell me you have something."

"Not really, boss." A quick glance on Gibbs' part revealed that Tim looked just as tired as everyone else. But he was silent, waiting. "The best we have is still those leads in Miami and Canada."

The last thing he wanted to do right now was split up his team. He wanted them together to fight this – but he also didn't trust anyone else to do the job right. Rubbing his face with one hand, Gibbs made his decision. "Ziva, go to Miami. Tim, you take Canada. Be thorough, but don't spend any more time there than you have to. If they're more dead ends, they're dead ends." He stood, pushing out of his chair. "She'll slip up sometime."


	22. She Was Here

It had been another very long week. Of course, it didn't help that his house wasn't exactly meant for four people to live in; Gibbs mused as he sipped at his coffee and stared out the window. Jackson was in his bed, Abby in the guest room, and he and Mike shared the living room. Most nights one or the other didn't sleep anyway. More taxing, at least to him, was the constant guard on the house. But if it kept everyone alive, he would deal with it. He wasn't the only one, anyway; just to be safe, Palmer and Tony were crashing at Ducky's. Gibbs wasn't sure what they were going to do when Ziva and McGee got back. Nobody had space for more houseguests.

The sound of the elevator made him look up from the city night stretched outside of the window, and he looked up with a faint smile at the sight of Abby on Ducky's arm, the goth girl and the well-dressed elder man making a strange picture. They always did, but yet to them it seemed so natural. Even the bodyguard behind them didn't spoil the picture. He walked over to his desk and grabbed his coat to head out with them. He and Abby had driven separately this morning but he'd head home with her and he could get his car in the morning. She smiled at him as he joined them, and he couldn't help but smile back as they walked out, Abby letting Ducky go with a kiss on the cheek when they parted ways to head for different vehicles.

"Jethro…" Gibbs saw the out-of-place object at the same time as Ducky's concerned voice reached him, and pushed Abby out of the way, back towards her body guard even as she reached for the doll on her windshield, confusion on her face. A day of the dead doll. Paloma – or her men, but he suspected she would have wanted to do it herself – had been here; inside the navy yard. Even from here, he could see there was no doll on his car. No, she had been taunting him, poking him where he was vulnerable.

"Duck, Abby, go back inside." He made the command without even turning around, glad now he had grabbed his coat –and his keys – on the way out. He was sliding inside his car and starting it almost before they had moved, but he made sure to watch the bodyguard and now building security usher them inside before he tore out of the parking lot, flipping open his phone to call in reinforcements but knowing he would reach his house before anyone else. He was right of course, and he jumped out of his car without even bothering to turn it off and drew his gun as he saw and ran towards a figure, prone on the ground. A quick check provided no pulse on the agent, and Gibbs forced himself to move on, letting himself silently in the back door with weapon raised.

There it was – on the mantel – a doll just like the others. A noise made him swing around and he found himself pointing his gun at his father, stepping out of the kitchen.

"Leroy? What's-"

"Dad, where's Mike?" he interrupted with a sense of dreadful urgency.

"I'm right here, Probie." Franks came down the stairs, probably from visiting the house's only bathroom. "Why the panic?"

"She was here, and she was in the navy yard." Gibbs barely paused to point at the doll on the mantel and then went back outside, circling the house until he found the other agent on security detail. He didn't have to check the man's pulse to know, but he did anyway, swearing viciously and kicking the ground when he stood. Three dark, unmarked vehicles came racing down the street then, spilling agents who immediately set to work; securing the perimeter, checking the fallen, searching the house. Tony pulled up soon after, and headed his direction, surveying the damage with just as tired a look as Gibbs felt.

"I dropped Palmer off at NCIS on my way." Tony offered by way of greeting, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jacket. "McGee and Ziva both called. They've wrapped up and their flights will come in tomorrow. McGee early, Ziva late." He paused, ran a hand through his hair. Little things that Gibbs knew in his senior field agent as well as he knew Abby's quirks. Gibbs looked at Tony and wondered whether he was going to be the next target. Or whether there was a doll somewhere related to Tony, just waiting to be found. But he was interrupted – his phone was buzzing at him, and he checked the readout.

"Now we go back to NCIS too. Vance has an idea that we're going to try. At this point, it can't hurt anything. None of our other leads have panned out."


	23. Do What You Have To Do

When it buzzes in his hand, Gibbs flips the phone open to read the stark black letters against the backlit display. _'He's coming.'_ Was all it read; Gibbs flashed his car headlights at the car on the opposite side of the road and settled deeper into his seat when all of the lights extinguished, leaving both cars in complete darkness. A car sped by them some time later and it wasn't until after it disappeared around the next bend that a shape eased out of the dark woods across from him and went speeding off in near-silent pursuit; despite the solemnity of the moment he felt a grin briefly crease his face. Only their Ziva could drive a car like that. He gave it one more moment and then he followed, knowing when his headlights illuminated a woman standing, gun pointed down towards a man her partner was handcuffing that it was over.

Relief washed over him, easing the knot of fear that he'd been harboring in his chest for what felt like an eternity. Gibbs slid a hand into his pocket as he walked up to the trio, and then withdrew the first doll, the one from Ducky's car, and dropped it beside Rivera. The man looked up and stammered something almost incomprehensible. Gibbs stared at him, letting the silence stretch, and then he said, "No-one said I was in this safe-house.

He turns away, and walks towards the door. "Who?" he can hear Rivera demanding of his team behind him; "Someone was in there. Who?" Gibb opens the unlocked door and turns to the lit living room, to where the thick curtains had hidden any detail of the falling body from those who'd been outside. And there she is – lying helplessly on the floor, blood already pooling around her body. Before his team lets the struggling Rivera in to kneel beside his sister Gibbs bends down himself; he takes the other doll (the one from Abby's hearse) and makes sure she sees it when he tucks it into her convulsing hand. And then Rivera is there, and he backs away, ignoring her last gasping words.

* * *

She's waiting for him, sitting on the edge of his desk in the bullpen, legs swinging while her hands clasped her cell phone anxiously. Her head jerked up at the soft whoosh of the elevator doors and they lock eyes across the dimly-lit space; he takes note of his father and Franks having a conversation by the window but he goes to her first, standing close enough that their legs almost touch and she's forced to stop kicking.

"Hey," she says, voice still uncertain, taking a shaky breath before she continues. "Is it…is it over?"

It's the first time he's allowed himself to smile in what feels like forever, but he smiles for her, taking her face gently between his hands and leaning forward to rest his forehead against hers for a long, calming moment before he lands a gentle kiss there and draws back. "Yeah, Abs." he says it with a confidence that he hadn't been willing to give her before. Before, he had never been sure it wouldn't end badly – for him, for her, for the whole team. But now he truly believed it was done. "Yeah, Abby, it's over."

He pulls her into his embrace when she leans into his chest, and looks towards the men who have started to walk towards them. Mike gives a nod and a brief salute before heading towards the elevator, and Gibbs knows that the small envelope in his hand is plane tickets back to his family. Jenny may have called Franks in on occasion but his mentor has always made Vance uncomfortable – if a few plane tickets get the retired agent out of D.C. faster, he wouldn't be surprised if the funds had come out of the Director's own pocket.

"Well, now," He drew his gaze away from Franks as Jackson put a hand on his shoulder, turning instead back to his father and Abby. "I suppose you better get me back to my shop now, there's a lot of clean-up to be done if I'm gonna open on Monday morning."

* * *

It feels good to be doing something productive, without the shadow of doubt hanging over them. Gibbs takes the prying end of the hammer to yet another nail, slowly loosening the boards across the shop's large front windows, looking up at the sound of his father coming out of the back storeroom with another armful of goods to make sure he hadn't grabbed anything too heavy.

"Thanks for staying to help me," the older man said as he wandered towards the back shelves. "You sure you have the time?"

Gibbs heard the clink of jars as his father set the box down and grunted softly as he pulled the last nail free of the plywood sheeting. "You do what you have to do for family." He smiles at his dad and then slowly lowers the sheeting to the ground, leaving them both free to look out into the bright sunshine. At Abby, earphones stuck over her ponytails as she bobbed along to the beat, washing the outside of the store's front windows. At McGee, meticulously repainting where gunfire had torn up the outside woodwork. At Tony, who had shed his shirt somewhere on the pavement while he pushed Jackson's ancient mower across the yard.

The Gibbses shared a smile as Jackson murmured, "Ain't that the truth," in reply.


End file.
